Well, here is the next chapter, just as we promised with, all the gore and angst entailed! ;) Now, we have a special announcement to make! We have a beta! –gasps- Everybody, meet Nyctea Scandiaca! We would like to thank her for her brilliant beta-reading skills and the wonderful help and effort she gave us for this chapter. :) Thank you!
I Will Always Return
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CHAPTER TWO
An Eye for an Eye
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The orcs hadn't driven Legolas far before they stopped, seeming not to care about going any further and in fact acting lazy, Legolas noted as he was roughly yanked to a stop by his cloak becoming entangled in one of their clawed paws. "Where do you think yer going?" the brutish creature snarled, pulling Legolas back a few staggering steps. They were keeping a tight rein on the nimble Elf, leaving him no chances.
Legolas was unable to stop himself in time from answering the so obviously rhetorical question as he dug in his heels to both avoid a fall and stop the backward movement. This was probably because he didn't very much care that it was rhetorical or he refused to see that it was. He had by no means appreciated the forceful pull on his cloak or the treatment he was receiving thus far. They had worked him with whips and clubs along the way, thinking that he needed a little encouragement and leaving bruises and welts in the devices' wake. Occasionally, he had been tripped, or slammed to the ground, only to be kicked and trodden upon by their heavy feet. "Apparently nowhere," he snapped at the creatures, pulling back from their grips and giving them the most defiant glare he knew how to muster, which was surprisingly potent.
"Shut yer uppish little mouth Elf," snarled a large orc as he slammed his companions aside and moved himself to stand before Legolas. The Elf was taller than he was –by quite a lot- and that didn't settle well with him. It was annoying when he had to look up to his captive. "Get him on his knees! Now!" he snapped angrily at his subordinates. Apparently his subordinates were not moving fast enough and he stood up on his toes and Legolas' head snapped to the side as the back of the orc's hand struck him roughly harshly across the face. The metal weaved into the leather of his studied glove scrapped a minor abrasion across the proud cheekbones as Legolas was thrown off balance by another shove and a few more well-placed hits from some of the helpful creatures. The Elf finally landed sprawled on the ground.
Here it comes, Legolas mused as he took in the full force of the blow, which had been considerably stronger than expected. I am going to be their new punching bag for the next hour.
It took him another second to understand that he was actually sprawled on the ground under his captors' feet and still another moment to realize that his face was burning, as blood rushed to one side of it into an aggravating crimson pattern that resembled the orc captain's hand. He hadn't thought he had been struck that hard. He tasted a coppery tang and his lip curled in anger.
For the next few seconds he worked on dissolving all the fuzzy material that seemed to be clogging his wits but once that was accomplished he turned only his steeled eyes and gave the orcs the most deliberate and angered glare that in times past had served to strike up fear in many a slothful sentinel's heart. Unfortunately, on these orcs, it had no effect, which, Legolas reasoned as he watched them through a darkened set of eyes, could possibly be because they weren't really giving him much of their attention.
What had been a cold fear in the pit of his stomach ebbed away slightly as some of it transformed into a strange curiosity. This was not natural with orcs, particularly Mordor orcs, especially if their captive was an Elf. Legolas had to admit that he didn't understand a lot right now but this was definitely more confusing. Sitting up from where he had been afraid to move up until the now, the Wood-Elf decided to put his sharp Elven senses to good use.
The orcs were talking agitatedly in their abominable tongue, of which Legolas knew very little and didn't care to hear or understand any more of. He was no observer when it came to orcs and knew little about them save that they were ugly and generally stupid with the exception of their cleverness in building torture devices and weapons. However, at the moment he was sure they were angry as well as anxious about something. Legolas found his curiosity starting to peak, fighting with his fear for mastery.
There wasn't anything he could do right now that could possibly deter them from their motives except withholding information, which really didn't matter because he had nothing to withhold. Legolas was grateful that their main objective was not discovering how many ways that they could make an Elf scream, but all the same he was disconcerted by the lapse in their natural behaviour. Orcs were without self-restraint. They were selfish and cruel. It was unnatural that he should not be enduring more than what he was. It was becoming obvious that they wanted him in one piece. The more he tried to think of the reasoning behind their actions, the more he began to become alarmed. Dark and ominous nausea churned in his stomach.
Almost catching his breath, he narrowed his eyes and looked inquisitively about them as though everything had suddenly become quite intriguing. He could be imagining it, yes, but somehow he couldn't believe that was the case. The hoof beats throbbing in the air were real, very real. As a matter of fact, there had only been a few things of which he had ever been this certain about in his life.
If the orcs heard the sound, they didn't seem overly concerned. It was impossible for even mortal ears to miss the sounds of the approaching horses now and Legolas was growing increasingly uneasy. The cold fear was beginning to wrap around his heart again, squeezing it so it was almost suffocating it. His mind briefly flashed back to the scouts that had managed to capture him earlier, whether it was because of his anger towards them or because there was some evil on them he didn't know, but he couldn't erase the image of their faces from his mind.
In moments five men on horses rode post haste into camp, the animals chomping at their bits and breathing a bit hard. Immediately Legolas' face hardened, scrunching up in disgust and he had never wished that he had been more wrong. Two out of the five men were indeed the scouts that had waylaid him and he felt a hot anger building up towards the traitors that he wasn't going to find easy to suppress, especially considering the circumstances he was in. What he also found particularly angering was that these humans greeted the orcs almost as though they were friends. Politically speaking, they were but after that, all cordialness came to an end and Legolas wouldn't have been surprised if they gutted each other at some later point in their miserable lives. His only wish was that he did not have to bear witness to such an event. It would be quite disgusting.
"Did you capture both of them?" asked one of the humans, the scout that Legolas had managed to slice across the arm with his knife blade before he found himself subdued.
The orc captain frowned. "The cursed human evaded us. We got the maggoty Elf." A gesture from his arm directed at Legolas guided the Rohirric man's eyes in the direction of the prisoner, who seemed angry, if the man's interpretation of his clouded expression was accurate.
The wounded scout turned deliberately and his eyes stared down at Legolas, suddenly making the Wood-Elf feel a hated sense of inferiority –something he had not felt under a human's glare in quite some time- and what made it worse was that this man had no title; he was a mere scout. A spark of passionate hatred ignited somewhere within him and even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't let go of it and be moved more to pity. "Ah, Legolas Greenleaf, sorry to have you detained in such an uncomfortable way, but, well there was nothing left to do. I hope you aren't hurt." His voice was mocking and full of laughter.
"Don't lose sleep over it, Adan, your… underlings haven't given me more than a few bruises and placed me in unreasonably tight bonds that are cutting off the circulation to my hands," Legolas added tersely, not wanting to talk to these people and feeling an explainable sense of grumpiness. He actually knew he should be feeling a strange sense of gratitude towards these people for not already leaving him with an ounce less of his blood, but a few slaps back he had decided that blood loss was inevitable so he shouldn't set his hopes too high. There was no use setting himself up for disappointment.
"Oh, don't be so gloomy, Elf," the blonde man chided his captive, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he fairly pranced around the bound Elf, who remained emotionless except for a slightly aggravated expression. "We still need you alive… for now."
This was when Legolas decided that he didn't like this man's voice… the human appeared to be far too much in love with it. It was disgusting. "Well that's comforting, I must say," Legolas' tone was sarcastic and cold. He was not in the mood for any cordial games and if the man was trying to frighten him, it wasn't really working. The human hadn't given him a reason to truly fear yet.
"Well don't be so assured Legolas," the human taunted, pulling a long knife out of his belt and bringing it before Legolas' face as though the mere presence was supposed to strike uncontrollable terror into the captive's heart. The man was sorely disappointed when Legolas remained impassive and didn't even seem to blink. "There are many things worse than death. I need to get back at you for that knife work you performed earlier. You aren't so much a warrior now."
Raising a brow, the first real movement he had done in the past few minutes, Legolas looked at the human in full belief that he was going to do exactly as he said. "You are right. If I were not bound you would be dead, because in a fair fight I would kill you."
The human's sadistic smile faded a bit at that and the orcs smiled happily in anticipation. This Elf just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Such things could eventually be altered. Sighing inwardly, the Rohirric man knew that sooner or later the Elf was going to pay dearly for his witty remarks and rebuttals. Well, sooner sounded far more appealing than later but there were things that needed to be done.
"Legolas you will find us to be far more accommodating if you learn to hold your tongue. Otherwise you might find yourself in a miserable position," he advised in a quiet voice that still didn't sound angry, just eerily smooth… calm.
The Elf worked to unwind the cold knot twining in the pit of his stomach that was his growing fear. Looking at the knife and seeing his pale and bruised face reflected in the polished silver, Legolas turned his gaze to look up at the human and said in an equally calm voice, "you still plan to cut me." It was a statement, not a question. Legolas wasn't stupid after all. The sadistic, gleeful, smile, with the knife enclosed by the man's hand was all the clues he needed.
The blonde man's smile broadened into an expectant grin that served to send icy shivers up and down Legolas' spine. "I do indeed." His grin took on an insane air. "An eye for an eye, Legolas."
To this Legolas only inclined his head as the orcs flanked either side of him and dragged him to his feet by his upper arms and hair –anything they could get a grip on. He struggled some at first, shuddering with loathing as they overpowered him and pulled him into their clutches. The orcs held him firmly in place, there being no pole to bind him to and they seemed to take a strange delight in shoving him around or breathing down his neck. Their nails bit into his fair skin, pricking it slightly, but Legolas didn't flinch. All Legolas could think about was that if he possessed his twin knives then he would kill them all with his hands bound or die trying.
"You stoop too low, human. The Valar will not let you live for this dirty work," Legolas spat defensively as the man looked over the knife much like a woman observing a piece of fine jewellery that she intended to purchase. Out of the corner of his eyes, Legolas saw more of the orcs lighting a small but lively fire that cast bizarre shadows about the still darkened dawn. When he saw his fair-haired captor glance that way and a glimmer come into his eyes, the Elf knew that this was going to be far more than 'an eye for an eye'.
Well, at least this gave him more insight into this human's temperament: the man had no self-control.
When he saw the blade enter the red hot embers and become submerged by them he had no doubt this was going to far outweigh simple payback and everything he had been thinking a few seconds ago was confirmed. This man had no self-restraint, whether because he was born without it or because it never used it, the Elf wasn't sure. In truth, Legolas would have preferred not to exchange a single word with these people but since he had already exchanged quite a few over that limit he decided that a few more couldn't worsen things too much depending on their context and content. "Why do you need me alive?" he asked the man demandingly, glowering at his captor's back the entire time since the man seemed disinclined to turn around and give him a single glance.
"The reason is rather simple. Your ranger friend is… well… at large and we don't like that very much. He could interfere with things that are none of his or your business." The human finally turned around and stared at the Elf, as if trying to see if the immortal had made any sense from what he had just said. Almost immediately he decided that yes, this fair-haired creature was catching on to things rather quickly other wise he doubted that his eyes would have death reflecting in them.
"So you are going to use me as bait."
Aye, this Elf was smarter than he had thought. Of course, he didn't truly expect someone with the reputation of being Thorongil's trusted scout to be stupid.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," answered the Rohirric man, glancing at the orcs as he heard them snickering amongst themselves. It certainly had not been his idea to have anything to do with them, he reminded himself in annoyance. Looking once more at the blade covered by the hot coals he smiled as he recognized the familiar red glow creeping up the edges as it was becoming red-hot. He would have rather let the Elf and ranger die at the orcs' hands in battle than have to deal with captives right now, especially one as resourceful as the bloody Elf. He would actually have expected to take Thorongil captive, if anybody. But as it was, he would find several ways to turn this to his advantage.
Legolas just scowled harder. "It will never work."
"I beg to differ, Legolas: it will."
Legolas resisted the urge to try to become invisible and/or squirm away as he saw his abductor fishing the heated blade out of the coals, careful not to singe his own clothes or skin. Legolas didn't need to be told how badly this was going to hurt, nor that it was going to leave a wound to remember. Boring his blue eyes into the man's he asked softly as he began to understand he was more or less helpless, "Why are you doing this?" Legolas was stunned by how hollow and defenceless he had let his own voice sound.
He also hadn't expected an answer so he was surprised when the human supplied one.
The man paused and then answered with a question of his own. "Doing what? Getting even with you? What?" He looked at Legolas as though he was about the dumbest creature on the face of the earth, earning an eye roll of exasperation.
"Betraying your people and your king," the Elf answered tartly, his mood becoming even sourer as he realized this was the second political skirmish he and Aragorn had managed to find themselves in the midst of in less than five years. Good practice for being a king though, he decided absentmindedly.
"For no reason that you could understand Legolas," he retorted, grabbing Legolas arm and turning it palm upwards so he could slice away the fabric of his tunic up the length of his arm. It singed from the heat of the knife's edge and Legolas could already feel his skin blistering. Ah, Elbereth, they would pay for this, he reminded himself comfortingly as he set his jaw and shifted his eyes so that he wasn't forced to see the satisfaction on his tormentor's face.
The human was right about one thing at least, his reasons, however thoroughly explained, could never fully be understood and there was probably a good reason for that, namely because they didn't make sense.
Suddenly the metal edge of the knife made contact with the paler skin of the under part of his upturned forearm and it sliced through the skin, spurting a little bit of blood before the hot metal cauterized the wound. For a moment all of Legolas' breath was stolen away and all he could do was gape then he quickly drew in air and gasped as the knife was dragged up the length of his arm until it nearly reached the elbow, leaving the same sort of wound that Legolas had applied to his captor only hours earlier.
He didn't feel the full extent of the pain HHuntil a split second later, thanks to a delayed reaction and the world suddenly seemed to go mute as though a blanket had been laid over it, distorting the sounds. Giving his head a very small shake so that he would not give himself a headache on top of everything else, Legolas blinked back some soft dark material that seemed to be filtering in and out of his vision in a most aggravating way. The world seemed to swim back into focus even if it was a bit more blurred than when he had last remembered and spun out of centre every now and then.
Hearing voices that sounded unclear so that he hardly recognized them, the Elf blinked and turned his attention to the human who had just dared to lay a heated knife to his skin. The knife was still there, Legolas realized in surprise. The orcs around and gripping the prince jeered animatedly, savouring the Elf's pain and the paleness that had come over his face. Some their fingers tightened in their excitement, biting into wounds left from their whips and clubs.
Withdrawing the knife almost nonchalantly, the blonde man turned to his chestnut-haired companion that was standing near the orcs and seemed almost to hold his chin up as he bragged, "Elves are no different than we are. They have no magic. And," he held up the knife that glistened scarlet with Legolas' blood, "they bleed red."
Legolas almost smiled despite his pain. Humans always seemed astonished by these sorts of things. Of course he knew that Elves bled red, but humans always seemed to believe that they bled purple or orange, something that he often found highly amusing.
"Ceorl, you will regret this. That Witch that lives in the Golden Wood will get back at you for this," cautioned the chestnut-haired man anxiously, looking in that direction as though he expected Galadriel to rise up in a cloud of billowing black smoke, proclaim their doom, clap her hands and kill them all in a melodramatic display of pure calamity. At the moment, Legolas half-wished they were right and wondered briefly if Galadriel herself would appreciate the idea. Probably, he decided.
"You just don't seem to grasp the situation, Deor. Elves have no magic," Ceorl spoke as though the other man was a highly stupid child and then reached forward, twining his hand in Legolas' tunic front. Disappointed looks came over the orcs' faces as they realized they were about to be robbed of their favourite plaything and a few seconds later Legolas was ripped from their grasp, garnering a round of crestfallen expressions. "Go ahead, show us some of your Elf-magic, Legolas."
Legolas wished he could and he in fact prayed to the Valar that for maybe just a few seconds they could let him in on what it was like to choose someone's fate or rain fire and brimstone. Unfortunately they seemed disinclined to answer him and so he simply diverted his gaze to avoid further aggravation, smiling slightly as he imagined Ceorl running for his life while fire rained from the sky around him and his own little dark lightning-shooting cloud followed above him. It had been a nice dream, the Elf told himself mentally just after he was jolted out of the reverie.
He was already developing a passionate hatred towards this man and he had known him for less than a full day. It was a new record.
"See?" He shook Legolas demonstratively by his tunic collar and nearly lifted him off his feet. "He can't do anything. King Thengel and his men were fools to ever give Elves that much credit. And to think we took orders from such idiots."
"You are the fool Adan! What do you hope to accomplish with only five men?" Legolas spat as he was shoved backward into said men's grips, barely managing to stay upright and save himself from an embarrassing fall. These men could do what they want but he wasn't going to give them any more reason to see him as weak or draw anymore satisfaction out of his capture. However, the Elf involuntarily flinched as their hands enclosed around his arms and pulled at his tunic and hair to maintain control over him. Like the orcs, they were taking no chances with their prisoner.
"Legolas, I know you aren't stupid so please don't make such dense comments. They waste my time. Of course I have more than five men! It just so happens that five men are all that it takes to control you! The orcs did a fine job of capturing you and though I am sure they would gladly volunteer to do more, they will be heading back to the Eastfold." At this point he cast them a pointed glare and reluctantly, they began to shuffle off, lingering just long enough to stare hungrily at the Elf. "They have other business to attend to."
Legolas refused to move as the men pulled and worked to drag him towards the horses. Scrunching his face up in pure and unaltered anger as well as pain from his lacerated arm, the Elf lashed out defensively before he could stop himself, "And what do Thorongil and I have to do with all of this?"
Ceorl smiled slightly, inclining his head as he laughed to himself, almost as though no one else was around. "Nothing. Unfortunately for you both, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And," he shook his head, "you will be out of the way in a few more days."
"You won't get away with this," Legolas said, still refusing to move from the spot until he was good and ready. He just didn't understand how all the pushing and prodding was supposed to encourage anyone to do anything for anyone. It only served to make him want to resist even more and a small fire smouldered in his eyes as he firmly met Ceorl's laughing gaze with a look that resembled one a water-drenched lion might give.
"I already did." Tipping his chin up in a gesture to his men, Ceorl commanded in mild frustration. "Get him moving." It was obvious he was through being cordial and that his small store of patience was running thin.
One of the three companions saw the telltale signs of exasperation written on his chief's face. He frowned, deciding almost instantly that he greatly wanted to be of more service. In a nice exhibit of brotherly love and helpfulness, the man waited a few seconds to see where the progress with Legolas was going before he acted and did the only thing he could think of doing right then, which was actually quite impressive as well as instantly effective. Taking his spear's staff, he smashed it into Legolas' abdomen with enough force to send the Elf backwards. The captive collided with his captors and let them take their time gathering him up, which gave him time to remember how to breathe properly.
Sighing, Ceorl mounted his dirt brown horse and watched in condescending silence as all four men, if you included Deor, finally coerced Legolas up onto a horse and set him before Deor. They tied his hands to the saddle horn in such a way that if the horse lost a shoe and tumbled over, Legolas would be crushed. Before that, however, the Elf leaned back against the chest of the man behind him and swung his legs around, knocking the wind out of one captor and hitting another in the face, practically crushing his nose.
Amazingly, and providing Legolas with a great sense of dissatisfaction, all of this didn't bring about a change in Ceorl's facial expression. It remained unexpectedly blank, or just at ease and cool with what was going on about him even though Legolas knew he couldn't be overly pleased with the situation at all.
The Elf found himself breathing faster and shallower and wondered if a rib or maybe two had suffered a fracture from the blow. With every breath he took an intense pain that started in his lower part of his chest, spread throughout the left side of his ribcage like molten fire. If by chance he took a deep breath by mistake, he found the pain to increase to unbearable, nauseating levels. However, he did not expect these humans to be the least bit sympathetic or compassionate, so Legolas decided that he would keep it to himself. There was no need for them to know.
Nevertheless, he doubted that he would be able to hide it tomorrow if it was a broken rib, which he strongly suspected.
Deor took the reins and steered the horse towards the others, catching up to Ceorl and caring little how he jarred the prisoner seated before him. It was a struggle for Legolas not to hiss or wince at every uneven move the horse made. The chestnut-haired man nodded to his leader and said curtly as though he had done everything himself, "the situation is under control, sir." It was obvious that he was doing his best to make it look as though it had never been out of control to begin with but he was failing miserably.
Ceorl seemed unimpressed and he stared at Deor for a moment. "Good, because if Legolas gets away you will answer for him if he cannot be recovered, understood?" Turning to Legolas, he gave him a severe glare and sneered. "But you are going to behave, aren't you?"
"As far as you know, human," the prince's response was smooth and promised absolutely nothing. Legolas seemed to have mastered the art of looking completely indifferent while giving the impression that he was completely livid and insulted from top to bottom.
But Ceorl wasn't paying much attention to him anymore. As a matter of fact, he had turned his head away almost immediately after asking the question, not seeing the answer as being relevant in any way. Legolas was outnumbered, bound and injured, there was little chance for escape and even if Legolas did manage to break away he wouldn't get very far. They were on a plain and so there were only so many places he could go, considering that the blonde human doubted the Elf knew the area well enough to find a cave –and anyway, there were only few of those, their lair being one of them.
Ceorl only felt it fair to warn Legolas of the consequences of an attempted escape. Turning on his heels, he glared severely at the prince before everyone began move out towards their destination. "If you attempt to escape and are caught, the consequences will be harsh. I will not hesitate to have you thrashed within an inch of your life, Elf!"
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Aragorn mounted his borrowed horse, personally lent to him by King Thengel himself. He knew better than to try and go on with his life like he had never known Legolas because he knew sooner or later everything he cared about would fall apart and that left only one other alternative, as he had explained patiently as possible to Thengel. He had to follow his friend to whatever end it led –even if it meant into Mordor and before the Dark Lord's throne in chains.
Thengel had seemed disappointed and yet his face and wearied eyes spoke of understanding as he generously provided a horse to make Aragorn's job easier while blessing his journey and wishing the ranger well. In all truth, he had liked Legolas, even if suspicion and caution had gotten in the way, and he would have been honoured to call the Elf his friend if only he would have learned to put aside all differences sooner. He could tell that Thorongil was restless to find his friend and he couldn't blame him: the Elf's bearing and calm nature commanded loyalty.
Aragorn patted the horses neck, feeling it frothing in sweat and knowing that he was pushing the beast towards its limits, especially since it had borne its former master in a battle against some of the most hellish creatures that walked Middle Earth, save for the Nazgûl. His hand came off covered in sweat-stained foam and he sighed, relenting his riding to let the creature catch its breath so he wouldn't run it to its death. Relinquishing his hold on the reins, the human allowed the creature its lead as it shook its head, flopping its lengthy flaxen main from side to side.
Looking to the horizon as he lifted his head to look ahead and see what he must, Aragorn saw that the sun was rising, peeking its circular face of orange flame over the edge of the mountains and gradually casting things in a milky, golden light that he would have found beautiful under more mundane circumstances. If the orcs had Legolas then they would most likely stop, unless they were severely pressed by some irregular conditions. Being creatures of darkness and obscurity, the sunlight penetrated and pained their eyes and shook the resolve set in their dark and hard hearts.
Sighing heavily and allowing a droop to roll his shoulders, the ranger drew a deep, trembling breath and held it for a minute before releasing it, trying to calm the tumult churning in his stomach and melt the cold feeling freezing his insides. He and Legolas were so close to going home and he had seen the hurt that had been reflected in his friend's eyes when the Elf smiled, scowled, or did nothing at all, -an echo of all they had been through in Harad. He had been so scared of losing Legolas then and yet as much as he was loath to admit it to himself he had possessed more control of the situation in Harad than he had now.
Patting the horse's neck encouragingly, the man smiled without emotion, reflexively going numb to dull the pain and fear in his system and mind. "We have a ways to go yet, mellon nîn." Ah, he remembered the last time he had spoken the phrase "mellon nîn". It had been to Legolas of course and suddenly Aragorn feared he may never be able to say those words to the Elf again. He would die to even be able to call Legolas his friend one last time to the prince's face and relinquish any unkind thing he had ever said to the Elf. He didn't want their friendship to be a thing of the past.
Gathering up the horse's reins, Aragorn blinked and looked at the sun, rising in the East, being something that Sauron was unable to touch or denigrate. He was going to chase that sun, because his friend was being forced to chase it.
Spurring the mount, Aragorn called to it in Elvish, encouraging it to practically fly with its fast pace. He didn't care if the orcs knew he was coming, and he didn't care that his death could lie ahead, written in the possible dangers. Legolas was already being forced to live in those dangers and face his own death… for the second time in two years. The Elf deserved to go home. Aragorn knew he had dragged his friend into this even if the prince had claimed to come willingly, and he would be damned if he didn't make sure his friend stood beneath Mirkwood's Eaves and walked down his father's halls again.
It was some hours later, when the sun had reached its zenith and the earth bathed in early afternoon light that the human pulled the horse into a stop, wincing when he felt it shudder in weariness. Dismounting, the human was about to tend to the horse when he noticed something on the ground –a large pile of something, which explained half of what he was smelling at the moment. Horse droppings and they weren't from the one he rode.
Dismounting and dropping to one knee, he searched the ground for clues as to the creature's direction and if there had been any others with it. His experienced and trained eyes found exactly what he was looking for in about half the time he thought it would take, though it didn't make the situation any better or worse. There were more horses; at least five besides the one he knew had already come through here. The sets of tracks were distinct and not mistakable for anything else.
But orcs didn't use horses. Yet there were orc tracks as well. Had a scouting party of Rohan been killed? Crinkling his brow in concentration and thinking back to the fight hours back when Legolas had first been captured by Sauron's slaves; Aragorn remembered he had missed the scouts in battle. Given, it had been very hectic and everything had been blurred in his memory like disturbed water, but he was certain that he had never seen their faces -not once. There was the possibility they had been killed, but he had avidly searched the dead, looking for Legolas' mangled body and hoping to simply find the Elf wounded and still breathing.
Also, he noticed, feeling slightly stupid, there had been no deaths here. Not a drop of blood had been spilled on the ground and upon further investigation; he discovered the cooled, charred remnants of a small fire. It couldn't have been lit for very long; still showing the almost skeletal remains of sticks and other fuel, though they were blackened to a crisp. For what purpose it had been lit, Aragorn didn't know but it made him sick when he thought that Legolas was still in their clutches and at their mercy. That fire had not been meant for cooking or warmth…and that left very little alternatives. It was true that the men of Rohan often branded their horses, for trading purposes and identification so he wouldn't be surprised if they found a way to incorporate this into their treatment of a hated prisoner, especially if that prisoner was incompliant, which would definitely fit in with Legolas' insolent demeanour.
Feeling pale, Aragorn found his hands shaking as he thought of the hot metal being pressed against Legolas' porcelain skin and seeing his friend's face screw up in pain as the searing sting ran through every nerve. He imagined that he could smell the appalling odour of overcooked flesh –his friend's flesh and blood. The thought was so vivid that he cringed and had to force down the acidic bile rising in the back of his throat.
Legolas didn't deserve this –he never had- and anger burned in Aragorn's heart as he thought of his friend bound and in pain all by himself surrounded by people who would as soon take his head as look at him. Almost in black anger, the ranger grabbed a tussock of hard, stiff grass and twined his fingers through it before viciously yanking it from the earth, uprooting some sod as well, and throwing it away so that it landed a few feet off.
Smacking his clenched fist against the ground to vent his frustrations, Aragorn pleaded to the Valar that when he caught up with Legolas and his captors, that they would be gracious enough to let him change places with Legolas. If he was given just one chance to change everything and reject helping Rohan and go home as had been planned than he would gladly do it if it meant that he and Legolas would have both entered Thranduil's halls.
Not knowing what his friend was going through, and if Legolas was scared or suffering was perhaps the greatest torture Aragorn had faced since Harad. At least in Harad he could hear Legolas screaming and he knew the Elf was alive, which provided some twisted comfort in those dark cells. There was now comfort here.
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"Are you asleep on your feet, Elrohir?" hissed Rothinzil into the other Elf's ear as the twin's feet tangled and caused him to lurch forward, only to be saved from a fall by Rothinzil's strangely quick reflexes. Normally this would have garnered at least a light snicker from Elladan, but the mood was as dark and monotonous as it had been for near three years now.
"No, no, of course not. Just a bit travel weary, that's all," Elrohir objected drowsily as Rothinzil shook his head disbelievingly.
"'A bit travel weary'?" he questioned incredulously, eyeing Elrohir doubtfully. "I say you are dead on your feet." Throwing an accusing glance at Elladan, he declared matter-of-factly, "See? This is what you get when you travel day and night!"
The twins along with Rothinzil, who had adamantly refused to be left behind, had travelled to Harad or close to it, daring to face the gravest of perils if there was the slightest chance of finding news of Aragorn and Legolas and bringing them back home. The trip to Harad had been uneventful and had actually bordered on being boring as they talked to a nomad, whom they found herding his livestock. But when they had received news that the fair-haired Elf and the ranger had traversed back to Minas Tirith, they had gone to Gondor, only to arrive there a few days too late, since Legolas and Aragorn were already heading homeward.
They had not been overly surprised when the staff of the Houses of Healing had also complained that the two were no half as healed as they professed so vehemently and that their wounds would most likely cause them trouble on the journey home. In fact, the three had been sympathetic towards the poor healers and given their apologies for Legolas and Aragorn's impulsive behaviour before they left themselves.
But for all the warning from the healers that Legolas and Aragorn were a whole lot weaker than they thought, the two were putting the miles behind them quite well and Elladan, Elrohir and Rothinzil had found themselves pushed hard to catch up. Now it seemed they were getting close and they hoped that now that Mirkwood was in sight, Legolas and Aragorn might take it easy.
Elladan turned his attention back to Rothinzil from where it had previously been scanning the dimly lit horizon as the new sun was rising and driving back the night shadow. "Well we have almost caught up and with any luck we will have them hogtied and be dragging them back home by dark."
"So I take it we still aren't going to rest?" Elrohir sighed. He was eager to find his adopted brother of course, but he didn't think that Legolas and Aragorn could find this much trouble so close to home. Wait, he amended mentally, yes, they could -quite easily actually. "On the other hand, we might as well press on. No telling what they have found." Remembering that the two friends had been wounded by something or someone made him uncomfortable though he wasn't taken the least bit aback.
Roth just looked a bit worse for wear and homesick. This feeling and expression was shared almost equally by everyone else. When they had left Mirkwood, Lord Elrond had still been there, but his depression had worsened considerably, which was one of the main reasons that they had left, besides wanting to find Legolas and Estel. It was gnawing at their hearts and souls to see their father so disheartened and miserable and grave every minute of the day.
Thranduil wasn't much better off than Elrond and the kingdom of the Wood Elves was in grave danger of collapsing as well, though the Silvan beings were all entirely too stubborn to go to the Havens and preferred solitude and self reliance if that was what it came to rather than admit anything was wrong. Rothinzil was getting frustrated out of his mind trying to help maintain some sort of order in the kingdom and he couldn't have stood it another day when he left.
Helluin and their twin children, Ilwë and Teleprion, he had escorted to Laketown first with the aid of the twins, desiring to get them out of harm's way since he wasn't sure which way things were going and was most likely going to be absent for a lengthy bit of time. Helluin had protested adamantly, but to no avail and in the end he had given into Rothinzil just so he would quit worrying.
Simultaneously pushing these thoughts aside, the three companions took in everything before them, the green of Rohan rolling out before them before giving way to mountainous terrain. Everything was bathed in a milky golden light from the rising sun and had a warm glow to it, making their hearts lighten slightly.
Rothinzil was the first to crack a smile and he wondered out loud, "do you think they found trouble here?"
The twins just looked at him in perfect disbelief at the question and nearly dropped their jaws in surprise that Rothinzil, of all people, would ask it. The identical looks plainly asked, 'what do you think? Was that a joke or are you just plain stupid?'
Roth's grin faded and he shrugged dismissively. "Just hopeful, that's all." When they continued to stare blankly at him for a minute he glared caustically, feeling very much annoyed. "Alright, you made your point. It was a stupid question," he allowed darkly.
"Let's just pretend you didn't have a momentary lapse of common sense," Elrohir suggested brightly and they all left it at that, not caring to take it any further at the moment.
"So, does anyone see any signs of them?" questioned Elladan after a while, as they all gazed conscientiously at the waking world before them.
"Not yet, perhaps we should search the ground?" suggested Rothinzil seriously. Elrohir nodded in agreement and before Elladan could say anything they were practically on their hands and knees looking for any signs that Legolas or Estel might have come this way.
Sighing, Elladan gave the horizon and the area surrounding one last mournful look over and then decided to assist Elrohir and Roth in their search.
It was only a few moments before Roth gave a small cry to get their attention and they all were scrambling hastily to get over to where he crouched, wide and excited eyes rooted to a single spot in the grass. Ash.
"It's cold," Elrohir noted openly as he touched the grey flakes and blackened chunks of wood hesitantly with his finger tips after he felt no heat radiating from it onto the palm of his outstretched hand. Disappointment etched itself on his face and he rocked back on his heels. "They are at least a day ahead of us."
"More like twelve hours," objected Elladan quietly. His grey eyes were narrowed in intense concentration and thought. "Unless it's not them."
The suggestion seemed to dissolve and fall into the thick air of the morning atmosphere and no one even dared to acknowledge it for a moment, afraid of having to face a false hope. Staring at the ashes as though they might be a veiled portal to another world with Estel and Legolas on the other side, everyone refused to make eye contact, afraid of seeing confirmation that this wasn't made by the two friends. It was easier, for the time being to believe that it was made by Estel and Legolas.
Unfortunately there were no prints in the grass, so they couldn't tell. Not that Legolas really left much of a depression on any surface anyway, but Aragorn's boots would have made an indentation of some sort. It would have been even better if the two had decided to eat or accidentally left something behind, but apparently they were in a real hurry still as they had been for the past few months.
Finally Roth spoke up, unable to bear the torturous silence very long. "I think it was them. It matches the pace they have been setting for the past few weeks. I am just thinking that maybe they had to leave earlier for some strange reason this time. But I do believe we nearly had them this time."
Elladan stared at Roth for a moment, obviously trying to decide if the clumsy warrior was sane or not, and must have left the decision at a draw because he replied shortly, "Maybe. It is probably best we go on."
Elrohir sighed and Roth just shook his head. "Do you ever wonder how things are going back home?" The mortal Elf watched the twins curiously as they stood up, brushing off their leggings hastily with their hands.
Elrohir answered a bit tiredly. "Sometimes." Elladan just cast him an annoyed look, obviously working to get the point across that he didn't want to discuss this right now and would much rather not even think about it. Rothinzil nodded, in accord with Elrohir.
However, trying to appease Elladan's morbid mood, both younger Elves said no more about their thoughts of home, whatever they may be. They had trouble enough without getting in a conflict among themselves.
TBC….
Hehehehehe, first of all, we want to thank you for all the wonderful reviews that you sent for the first chapter. ;) They were very encouraging and we enjoyed each and every one of them. However, if you were anonymous and didn't leave an e-mail address, we were unable to respond, so thank you to: Renee, Mrs. Bloom, Grania, Sienna Woods, and memyselfandi. We wish we could have responded to you guys! ;)
Secondly, please review! We would love to hear from all of you readers! You really make our week special until we post again! –smiles- but we don't need to tell you that! LOL
Lastly, we have a note to clear up any misconceptions. These orcs that captured Legolas cannot possibly be Uruk Hai. They were not created until the War of the Ring and so it would be a bit premature to have Legolas and Aragorn discover them now, would it not? All orcs from Mordor are Uruks, ones from underground are Goblins. ;)
